I'm trying to convince myself that I should start a running program.

Because I rely heavily on logic, I shall indulge this quirk o' mine and list out the facts.

1. I am currently at least 95 pounds overweight. I have been hovering around 275, and my goal weight is 180. I realize that for my height (5'9"), the ideal weight is more between 130 and 160 - however, I've always thought that I would look sickly at that weight.

2. I have done the work regarding my eating habits. Well, mostly. There are still a lot of issues that I continually work on, but at the very least I have acknowledged them and have a chat with them now and then. I eat much better now than I have, without starving myself. I believe that on a normal day, I probably eat around 2200 calories.

3. I have issues with exercising. My issue is manifested in laziness and excuses. I continually attempt to create a habit of working out, but I am never able to follow through for more than a few weeks.

4. I am terrified of what is beneath my fat. This is not a logical fact in any way, shape, or form, and that adds to my terror. I believe that part of my issue with exercising is not only being afraid of failing once again, but also being afraid of actually DOING it. I am afraid that beneath the layers of...ick...that there's nothing under there. There's nothing in me except the fat.

5. I am the only one who can change this.

I bought running clothes. I have sports bras and a stopwatch, and have downloaded a beginner's runnning program.

But somehow...I just can't step out the door.

Why this bisexual blogger supports Miss California

My blog isn't read often, so this probably won't get seen much...but I had to voice my opinion about this whole Miss California / Perez Hilton thing. After all...I'm entitled to my opinion, aren't I?

Personally, I don't consider myself bisexual. I live with my boyfriend of nearly 7 years. I just happen to also have a woman in my life that I fell in love with. I'm not normally attracted to women enough to consider myself bisexual, but maybe just the fact that I love a woman makes me one. Who knows - it's all semantics to me. I have always been a supporter of gay rights, and I do support gay marriage.

I support gay marriage for the simple legalities. I believe that "marriage" has become a catch-all phrase for a ceremony that includes not only religious meaning, but legal meaning. I believe that those two things should never be combined. I believe that the "lawmakers" (whomever they might have been forever-ago) shouldn't have used the religious marriage ceremony as a basis for legal rights - however, I also understand that they probably didn't have much else to go on, and that religious diversity was not an issue at that point in time as it is now. I believe that the religious meaning of marriage should be defined by religions, and that the legal state of marriage should be defined by the law (at either state or federal level).

Religion is, and always has been, a deeply personal experience. For the record, I also do not affiliate myself with any organized religion, though I do consider myself to be personally spiritual. However, I would never have the arrogance to tell someone what they should believe in, just as I expect no one to tell me what I should believe in. As long as those religious beliefs do not hurt anyone (physically, not emotionally), then I believe that people should be able to believe what they wish.

I didn't watch the telecast of the Miss USA contest. I have read transcripts of the question posed by Perez Hilton and the answer given by Miss California on various news websites, including MSNBC, FOXnews, and ABC.

I have to wonder...did Perez know that his question would be answered by Miss California?

I have no problem with the question itself - I question the appropriateness of it simply because of it's ties to religious beliefs. What if Perez had asked if she supported terrorist movements against the US, and she happened to be a member of the Taliban? (I know, I know...so many things wrong with that picture, but go with the analogy)

Basically...no matter how she answered, she was going to be booed by someone.

On top of that, Perez had to go and call her out on his website (which I completely admit to visiting on more than one occasion), calling her names. Let's see...who came out looking like a better person there? Sorry Perez...I'm personally boycotting your site now. The hate that came out of your mouth after being given an honest answer to a question of opinion was nothing better than the hatred against gays. Hatred is hatred...it doesn't know sexual orientation, skin color, or religious beliefs.

So, why do I support her? Because she was honest. She gave an honest, opinionated answer to a question about her opinion.

Do I agree with her? Of course not. But you bet your ass I support her opinion.

For a long time, Moose and I struggled with our D/s relationship. What we finally realized was that we needed to concentrate on aspects of our "base" relationship so that the D/s part could be possible. We both had issues with past relationships that we needed to resolve.

We forgot about the D/s stuff for awhile...we came close to breaking up (which was totally and admittedly my fault)...and then it turned around, and we've been better than ever. Except for all the stuff I blew up about a few posts back.

And I've been struggling with that, with the thought process of a woman versus the thought process of a slave. The slave in me wonders why I'm not happy. The slave in me boggles at my need to be recognized by him. Why is all of this so important to me? Why can't I just let it go? The woman in me wonders why the slave even asks those questions. I feel like...inside my head, the woman and the slave are staring at each other in the uncomfortable silence of two people who speak different languages.

It would have been easier when I could separate being a woman and a slave. Now that the two are so joined for me, I'm struggling.

"Woman" - Delta Goodrem

I worked late but you don't wait up
My bones ache and I'm cleaning the place up
Sometimes i don't even know I care

I sit down take off my make-up
I lay down but you don't wake up
Sometimes I wonder if you know I'm there

I can't remember the last time you
Told me I'm beautiful, and I can't remember
Last time you said anything at all

I'm a woman
A woman with a heart
And I deserve your all
I'm not some girl who don't know what she wants
I'm a woman
And I need to be touched
And I need to be loved
'cause being just your woman is not enough

Now i hope that you don't wake up
When it's too late to make up
You'll be the one that's alone and that's sad

In time you'll find somebody
The truth is she'll never be me
And that's when you're going to miss what we had

When all I really needed to hear was "you're beautiful"
All I really needed to hear was anything at all

I'm a woman
A woman with a heart
And I deserve your all
I'm not some girl who don't know what she wants
I'm a woman
And I need to be touched
And I need to be loved
'cause being just your woman is not enough

I'm not your friend who only needs you sometimes
And if I'm your lady
You got to treat me like...

I'm a woman
A woman with a heart
And I deserve your all
I'm not some girl who don't know what she wants
I'm a woman
And I need to be touched
And I need to be loved
'cause being just your woman is not enough
-------------------------------------------
Just something that I can relate to lately.

I made it. I got up all five days and did my biking.

That said (with all due celebratory boob-shaking and whatnot), yesterday was a...strange, upsetting day.

While driving into work, I started thinking about things (stop looking surprised), and I got a little down. Not hugely down, just kind of...pensive. While I was at work (the whole three hours I was there), I was in a good mood. Laughing, joking, etc. Happy frog.

Then...I went to the Devil's Playground. A.K.A. - Wal-mart.

I have had a theory about this particular Wal-Mart for awhile. It goes something like this:

This particular Wal-Mart is possessed by something ancient and evil that simply fills everyone with either stupidity or rage the moment those automatic doors whoosh behind them.

Normally I can let these things slide. But yesterday...yesterday, while pushing my grocery cart of noms and clutching my pink paper of grocey-listness, I fell thoroughly into the rage-filled category. I was raging at this stupid mom with three stupid kids who looked at me waiting for her to get out of my way and didn't move. Three different times. I was seething at the two old women who had to fill up the paper bags for frozen items IN THE MIDDLE OF THE AISLE, and then have the guts to look up at me and laugh.

But it was more than that.

I was raging at everything...god, by the time I got home, I could have easily done something criminal and gleefully giggled about it. I don't ever remember being so pissed off...I was angry about work, about Wal-Mart, about the asshole driving so slow in front of me, about my situation with Moose...it just caught me off-guard, the intensity of it.

I came home and basically told Moose that he should stay the hell away from me until I woke up from a nap, because I was liable to say things I shouldn't. Or maybe I should. I don't know.

We've been talking about his reluctance to marry. We've gotten to the point that he has realized that breaking a promise that he made to himself when he was five is more important than the life he has now.

Moose is...very self-focused. Things are important only if they affect him. When a choice must be made, logic fails against which item is -his-. Take, for instance, the garage situation. There's a two car garage. He has 4 vehicles. One has taken up permanent residency in the yard with a recliner rotting in the back. (Don't even TELL me how hick this is. I know.) One is parked outside and is used on an infrequent basis, but still used. One is his baby, a 79 Trans Am that is taking up one of the spots in the garage with much understanding. The other is a car a few years old that he bought about a year ago go that he wouldn't have to spend a fortune on gas and is used daily. This car is parked in the garage as well.

I have a 2007 Honda Fit. I bought it new. I have parked it in the garage twice. It bothers me that he thinks his cars are more important than my newer and more expensive car. It bothers me that he wants me to feel like a part of his life, but he can't give up a freaking space in his garage after seven years of being together. It bothers me that this winter, when I asked him to please move my car into the garage when he left for work, he did it once. One time.

Yeah, it might sound petty. But things like this happen all the time. I do the picking-up on a daily basis around the house. When I don't, he gets all frustrated and decides that the house must be cleaned RIGHTNOWOMG, getting into one of his whirlwinds where he wears himself out and gets even more frustrated in the process.

I do things because if I don't, they won't get done.

And more and more, I'm wondering why in the hell I'm doing it.

He has an idea of himself. He wants to be this coolguyrockstar, the one who his friends wish they could be. What he doesn't realize is that he already has given that up. Or maybe he does realize it, and regrets it. The thing is, this coolguyrockstar made a promise that he'd never get married. And he is clinging to that like a dying man...thinking that will "save" him, from whatever. From life, maybe.

It's not just about getting married anymore. It's about my future with him.

So, he needs to make a decision. He needs to choose between coolguyrockstar...and reality. One will have me around....the other won't.

So far, I've gotten up all three days to bike in the morning. Yay me!

Oddly enough...I've been inspired to start running as well.

No, wait. Don't get excited and supportive yet, until I explain my reasoning.

See, a friend a work is training to run a marathon that is actually this weekend. She's been talking about it a lot, and a group of us went out for lunch on Tuesday and we were all asking questions. She mentioned that one day she ran 21 miles (OMGWTF?!), and that the one time that she ran 16 miles on a treadmill it told her that she burned something like 2800 calories.

The frog's ears (I know they don't have any, go with it) perked up. 2800 calories? Well, shit. I could eat whatever the fuck I wanted, whenever the fuck I wanted. I just gotta run 16 miles.

*stare*

Moving on.

It's been KA-razay busy at work lately...I got moved over to a new payroll system that truthfully is only like, half done and so I had to create a whole crapload of reports that I needed for billing and such. Much crapness. Though, I rediscovered my love for pivot tables. I heart me some pivot tables. So, what with creating all this stuff, working through bugs, and having to adjust my routine (which if you know me at all is CATASTROPHIC), I've been pretty tired by the time I get home.

I'm also fairly certain I have more gallstones.

AND.

I came out to my mom on Saturday about my "lifestyle choice" - meaning, I told her about my wife. I even told her about the committment ceremony we had. She took it well...I mean, as well as I could have expected. She wasn't all fangirl about it...but she wasn't horrified either. We were having a big discussion in the car about how I think she is/was an awesome parent (she's going through some stuff that's making her a little uncertain), and it just sorta....came out. heh. I always thought that if I ever did tell her, that she'd still love me and all of that...and she does, she said so...said she just wants me to be happy and all of that. But I tell you what, doing that left me pretty much brainless until Monday. I came home on Saturday and Moose pretty much told me that I had the same look in my eyes that I used to get after a particularly heavy beating - i.e. I was "somewhere else." It completely drained me...even though it wasn't a negative experience in the slightest. I still worry about what she thinks of it all...but I probably will for awhile no matter what is said, because I'm lame like that.